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" H ocus pocus put the crocus his nose into the air ..."

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N one. You could not go on hoping. In general, yes, but not more it came to the spring. Some cranes have been pulled. On a Sunday. Last Sunday? She stood with him and the children all the chickens in the village above. And above you across a large V . Each time it caused this tingling in her. An awesome tingling. One that went through the whole body. With the heads in the neck they all stood there and could be captured by the thought that spring is coming. Within reach.

came back but then the snow.
you bore it with equanimity and just falling asleep at night and light winds last summer holidays.

came with the snow, fortunately the sun. It was a great comforter, as she crossed the chilly wind from the face - even the snowdrops. How did it contain? And the bright red tips of peonies, which had already gebort by Erdkrumen? Peonies. At more you did not have to think. peonies. They woke with her zest for life. Saturated.

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S chwungvoll He haute another bucket on top.

The child howled for joy. It was hands full approached stones. Disappeared into the jungle to search for sticks. They grinned two already with its narrow stone mouths. She stood at the plate. Inside. And the feverish forehead cooled to the glass. The joy that was going on out there on, put the child on her arm. It looked thrilled by the glass, yelling to his sister. Her eyes wandered over the bare hillside, however, snowy, cold winter into the sky. "It looks like more of" you thought. "And they announced it, too." The sight of you was chilling and be quiet.

"He keeps us comprises of winter."

were now distributed noses, and arms. Thin sticks, long sticks and orange beets. Small spots of color in the gray-white landscape. You still stood silently at the window, the child giggelte happy in her arm. At that moment, looked at the Great come to her. Discovered. And suddenly it was over, the happy game. "MAAAMAAAA ..." schluchtzte it up the hill and down again and her through the window. The child's snowman turned his back and rushed to the door. The snow men stare from large pebbles behind him. Furthermore, laughing. Only they could not wave, the rigid comrades.

They were probably the only ones who enjoyed the frosty cold.

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" M the slope it here so you can not do much!"

The words rang her on the forehead. "Excuse me ...?" The man was standing next to her obliquely, bursting with morning freshness. Sympathetic person, but frankly. The short sharp hair was gray and barely concealed by a green knitted hat. He gestured generously and let his arm wander far over the hill. She buried her

Hands in his pockets. It was freezing, it was before the morning coffee. She thought of your slope and the plans they had with him. Small Bruchsteinmäuerchen, two, three terraces for the house of herbs, a meandering, gravel crunching. Ground cover roses. Blackberries. Raspberries. And on top a secluded patio overlooking the valley with no view.

The man should now look trim around the apple tree. "Not much to do ...?" We'll see! We will see what happens in the summer.

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E nce She was alone.

She had let go just on the field. A meadow on a slope. The view of the valley was blocked by dozens of trees. Weitausladende, beautiful trees. What that bowed in the breeze rustled and tender. Which, on the trees here in the valley could be very proud.

She looked into the valley without a view. - "Still beautiful!" you thought. A small angle in the valley, still. Only if you pricked up ears, you could hear the gurgling brook.

were here in summer red-green apples in the meadow. Red Berlepsch. Goldrenette Freiherr von Berlepsch. That sounded great visit! Now the grass was wet. The humidity crept already on pants through the jeans. Actually, only moss, so thick moss balls and stabbed through the withered stalks of the coltsfoot of last summer. Below lay a few wrinkly, reddish brown tubers. Well apples that had fallen much too early and unripe.

"Now the cold gets into your bones" thought you got up and with a jerk. She ran down the slope, shooting a dried apple with a strong kick in the air. PLONG , he cut against the outer wall of the sandbox. "Lovely spot" ... "What were they still the same stone baskets?" she wondered. A child's call brought back abruptly. But since the idea was already gone.
disappeared And the winter bare branches of overhanging trees.